I succeed in getting Yann to read the last post: I find that people are more motivated to read my posts when they know they’ve been mentioned. I don’t think I’ll get the friendly e-biker who said, “Have a good ride!” as he zipped past us. Yann and I had stopped after the climb out of Mill Bay Terminal to remove our jackets.
I turned to Yann and repeated what I thought the guy had said.
Yann looked surprised. “That’s exactly what he said. Word for word.”
My lipreading ability is heavily dependent on context, which brings me to the freshest experience to be filed under, “Just fucking write, please.”
A few weeks ago, I went to the pharmacy counter for refills on HRT (to manage perimenopausal symptoms). I typed out my request for three packs of HRT on my phone and showed the message to the pharmacist. The pharmacist responded verbally and even repeated herself after I gestured that I was deaf. I imagine she said the same thing, but louder, as if I were hard of hearing. Based on my understanding, she could only give me two boxes because the system showed that I didn’t have enough refills.
Within the same week, I made a doctor’s appointment, which was easy enough as the folks at this particular clinic know me, and understand that the phone lottery system doesn’t work for someone who already has to queue to connect to a video relay interpreter. Anyway, at this appointment, the doctor tells me that the previous doctor had given me a year’s worth of HRT refills.
Weird. Did I really visit the clinic for nothing?
Today at lunchtime, I returned to the same pharmacy counter to request refills on HRT, sure that my file had been updated to show that I had been prescribed a year’s worth of those estrogen-infused stickers.
A different pharmacist wrote to me, “We’re out of stock. Maybe next week?”
Then it dawned on me: as of March 1st, HRT had become fully covered under the National Pharmacare plan. It makes sense that they can only dispense two packages at one time.
I FIGURED THIS OUT ON MY OWN. And that’s the deaf experience: constantly filling in the blanks, and sometimes getting it wrong.
But, yeah, I’d gotten the e-biker’s well wishes correct. Yann and I had a good ride.
After reading my last post, Yann pointed out that I’d omitted the interesting encounter we had with a car that took a weirdly long time to pass us even though the opposite lane was clear of traffic . Once the car managed to get ahead of us, it slowed down so much that Yann and I got ready to pass it. Then, without moving over to the shoulder, the car stopped in the lane.
“It has died,” Yann explained. He then pulled up next to the driver’s side, and the lady rolled down her window. I was wondering what sort of assistance Yann and I could possibly offer to a motorist.
What? Do you need to borrow my mini pump? Are your lips chapped? I always carry a tube of lip balm!
The lady appeared frazzled but was responding to Yann calmly. My deaf brain couldn’t work out a rational assessment of the situation. The only part of their conversation that I caught was her thanking Yann before he started rolling again. I followed him. Once the rust bucket was out of sight—still stopped in the middle of the lane—I pulled up next to Yann. He explained that the woman had literally purchased the car just half an hour ago. This was her second attempt in a month to buy a used car.
Hopefully, she’ll consider switching to bikes. That guy on his e-bike in Mill Bay sure seemed chipper.
